Literature and Politics from a microcosm called Delaware. Here all the multifaceted players across the great capitalist contradiction are reduced to a few actors: a handful of banking and chemical oligarchs squatting in châteaux, a stable of artists downwind who either take inspiration for amnesia and roses or take a stand, challenging the living to repair a polluted world.

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Just out with new preface, 2nd Edition of Autoplant: A Poetic Monologue

"writes with authority and insight into the factory world. He brings his lively cast of characters to life, puts us there with them on the job. The book is funny, irreverent, and touching." Jim Daniels

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"Through the parallel universes unveiled in UNTIME, the reader begins to clearly see the world they live in for the first time." -Lynnette Shelley, Brandywine Valley Weekly

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Neocons and neoliberals party on while Andean Indigenous evolve toward revolution in a country a lot like Ecuador

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In the The Wedgehorn Manifesto, Steven Leech advocates preserving the legacy of Delaware literature, especially that which was produced by Wilmington authors. It exposes the flaws in today’s environment and suggests remedies for a cultural revival.

Monday, July 30, 2012

The New Jim Crow in the First State

Is Jim
Crow alive in the USA and in Delaware in particular? In this era of the Civil
Rights Act, affirmative action, and an Obama in the White House, do we still
live under a system of laws designed to keep the black man down? That is what
Michelle Alexander charges in her explosive new book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. Piecemeal
reforms and timid civil rights activism, she argues, must give way to a
sweeping transformation, based on a recognition of the massive injustice against
black America and on compassion for the stigmatized young African American
male.

If she’s
right, what does that say about the First State? Is it possible that the
terrible gun violence afflicting Wilmington can be traced to the War on Drugs
and how it has disenfranchised a generation of black youth? Is it possible that
black youth, labeled felons, unable to find work, and ineligible for public
services including student aid, are turning to the drug trade, where, competing
with others so disenfranchised, they are engaged in a battle for survival that
is inevitably violent? Is it possible that well-meaning reformers, focused on
narrow aspects of the problem and dependent on the system, are perpetuating the
greater injustice? After considering Alexander’s book and examining official
criminal justice records, I am convinced the answer to all these questions is
yes.

Back in
the late 90s, I worked with a coalition then called the Alliance for the
Restoration of Ex-Offenders, whose mission was to amend the Delaware
Constitution to permit ex-felons to vote. Capping a battle that went back 20
years to the struggles of the late Representative Al O. Plant, we succeeded,
although Delaware still requires a five-year wait following completion of
sentences, including economic penalties and other restrictions. Another
amendment, the Hazel
D. Plant Voter Restoration Act, (HB 9), which will remove most
restrictions, will reach its final leg in the 2013 General Assembly. While one
of my motivations was the disparate impact felon disenfranchisement had on
African Americans, I learned never to use the word “racist” in the State
Legislature. I also learned that many ex-felons had other concerns than just
the right to vote. They told me, in so many words, “It’s great, Phil, if we can
get to vote, but we need jobs.”

The
hurdles that ex-offenders face in getting a job, described by Michelle Alexander’s
work, demonstrate the weakness of the piece-meal reforms we worked so hard for in
the nineties. Barring 7.5 percent of its voters, Delaware is still second in
the nation in disenfranchising its citizens, ahead of states with greater
restrictions on felons voting, according to the ACLU. Arguably,
there are more disenfranchised now than when we won our victory. My experience then and reading The New Jim Crow now convinces me that
it is time to call the War on Drugs and its attendant mass incarceration what
it is, a racist criminal justice system, and to seek its abolition.

Alexander’s
thesis is that in spite of today’s lack of overt racist sentiment and the
appearance of African Americans in high positions, caste disenfranchisement
that began with slavery has persisted in new forms throughout our history and
exists today in our criminal justice system, due in large part to the War on
Drugs. “Colorblindness” is more a blindness to the color line than its
abolition.

She
traces the seesaw battle between racial progress and mechanisms to maintain
blacks as a “lower caste,” that is, “individuals who are permanently barred by
law and custom from mainstream society.” Black and white bond workers worked
shovel by plow together and even linked arms against plantations barons in
Bacon’s Rebellion of 1675. Planters learned their lesson and began importing
more slaves and offering special privileges to whites. Upon a “racial bribe” for
poor whites and upon the interests of wealth, then, slavery, the original
system of caste control, took root.

Following emancipation, “black codes” like vagrancy laws were
imposed to force blacks back on the plantation. Reconstruction, backed by
federal troops, led to progress, but when the troops were withdrawn, Klan
terror and “Jim Crow” laws imposed a new regime of caste control that lasted over
75 years.

In the
modern era, the Civil Rights movement, the Civil Rights Act, and the Voting
Rights Act did much to dismantle the system of racial caste, but the economic
and cultural forces of Jim Crow did not die away, according to Alexander; they are
reborn in mass incarceration. Once incarcerated, blacks enter a “hidden
underworld of legalized discrimination and permanent social exclusion”:

Once you’re labeled a felon, the old forms of
discrimination—employment discrimination, housing discrimination, denial of the
right to vote, denial of educational opportunity, denial of food stamps and
other public benefits, and exclusion from jury service—are suddenly legal. As a
criminal, you have scarcely more rights, and arguably less respect, than a
black man at the height of Jim Crow.

But “whoa,” the reader
will protest. “If you do the crime, you do the time. Race has nothing to do
with it. If 61 percent behind bars are blacks and Hispanics, so what if they’re
only 29 percent of the population? Blacks and browns are committing the
crimes.”

Well-meaning reformers
bolster the notion that crime is a black thing, according to Alexander, because,
blinded by the colorblindness myth, they see the disparities in incarceration
as due

to the
predictable though unfortunate, consequences of poverty, racial segregation,
unequal educational opportunities, and the presumed realities of the drug
market, including the mistaken belief that most drug dealers are black or
brown.

That drug crime is not a particularly black or brown phenomenon
is Alexander’s most shocking revelation. The misconception began, she says,
during the Reagan era. Right after Reagan declared the War on Drugs in 1982,
crack cocaine began to spread across the country. She recalls that drug
traffickers associated with Nicaraguan “Contras” were protected by the CIA,
which, under Reagan, supported their war against the Sandinista Government. She
rejects conspiracy theories that the CIA spread crack deliberately, but Reagan’s
staff began to publicize the spread “to build public and legislative support
for the war.” In short order, reports Alexander, “the media was saturated with
images of black ‘crack whores,’ ‘crack dealers,’ and ‘crack babies’—images that
seemed to confirm the worst negative racial stereotypes about impoverished
inner-city residents.”

Soon, get-tough-on-crime
laws proliferated. Since Ronald Reagan declared the War and Drugs in 1982,
incarceration in the United States has soared from less than 500,000 to 2,266,832
at the end of 2010. No other country imprisons citizens at so high a rate.

In spite of the
overwhelmingly dark complexion of the prison population, blacks and whites actually
use drugs at roughly the same rates, reveals Alexander, citing the 2000 and 2007 National Household Surveys on Drug Abuse.

Alexander ascribes the
discrepancy between drug use and drug arrest to several factors, but especially
the stop and frisk policies in black neighborhoods, federal incentives to local
law enforcement, excessive plea bargaining, neglect by the Civil Rights community, and a number of federal
court cases disallowing disparate impact as evidence of discrimination without
explicitly expressed intent. If you can’t find some lawmaker saying he wants
this law because it will keep the black man down, you don’t have a case.
Wink-and-a-nod-racism empowers the New Jim Crow.

Do Delaware politicians,
policy-makers, police, and statisticians similarly wink and nod? Recall how I was told “Don’t use the
word ‘racism’” when working on ex-felon voting rights in the Delaware General
Assembly. Let’s look at a 2011
report requested by that august Assembly, submitted by the Criminal Justice
Statistical Review Committee.

At the outset, the study seems
to confront the issue directly. “Some observers,” they report, “suggest that racial profiling and
selective targeting cause a disproportionate number of minority arrests.” To
see if this is so, they compare percentages of blacks identified in complaints
for robbery, assault, and rape to percentages of blacks who were consequently
arrested, detained, convicted, and incarcerated. Blacks led significantly, if
not dramatically, in almost every category but convictions, which whites, if
arrested, were more likely to face. In the end, however, even if convicted, whites
were less likely to face jail.
Based on this data, the Review Committee reassured the General Assembly
that “racial disparities in the criminal justice system in Delaware are
primarily explained by disparities in reported criminal activity rather than
selective enforcement” They allow, however, that the study “shows a clear need
to delve into these statistics to determine if there is racial bias or if the
racial disparities reflect factors unrelated to the criminal justice system, or
some combination of both.”

They should have delved.

Instead, they duck the
issue of racial profiling in drug crimes. Because drug dealing “does not
involve specific individual victims,” they explain, arrests are not generally
responses to complaints, so “these arrests may be perceived to be police-initiated.”
Nonetheless, they explain, such crimes “involve neighborhood quality of life complaints or investigations
of other criminal activity, and the drug trade has long been associated with
high levels of street violence.” Therefore, they conclude, “[i]t is . . . problematic to regard
drug dealing arrests as simply discretionary law enforcement choices.” There’s nothing to see here if 72.9 percent of
those arrested for “drug dealing” are black (white percentages not reported).
Once arrested, blacks are much more likely than whites to be detained (85.4
percent black vs. 68.3 percent white) and incarcerated if convicted (60.2
percent Black vs. 36.9 percent white). Recall that only slightly more than 20
percent of Delaware residents are black.

Whether or not police
arrests are racially biased begs the question of whether blacks are committing
drug crimes more than whites. Furthermore, the issue of violent crime is a red
herring, but it is a fish that has been well baked by the much-vaunted Delaware
Sentencing Accountability Commission (SENTAC).

First, they address the
hypothetical question “Isn’t it true that most offenders are sentenced to prison for
non-violent offenses?” The answer, they assert, can be given “with some
certainty when using the legal definition of violent crime found in 11§ 4201.”
A quick search of the Delaware Code shows that many drug crimes, from
“Manufacture of Controlled Substances” to “Aggravated Possession,” are defined
as violent crimes. Thus, with some Orwellian circular reasoning, because
Delaware says a drug crime is a violent crime, then only violent criminals are
in prison.

Having excluding most drug offenders from the
“non-violent” category, SENTAC then asks “[h]ow many non-violent drug offenders
are sentenced to prison?” The answer: only 14 in 2007. Despite SENTAC’s
assurances, of the 2075 convictions that were for drugs only (both the
statutorily “violent” and the “non violent” kind), the vast majority served
some time incarcerated and were permanently labeled “felon,” if they were not
already so labeled, and permanently relegated to what Michelle Alexander calls
the “lower caste.”

If you do the crime, you do the time . . . if
you’re black.

This explosive charge by Michele Alexander
applies in the First State.

Extrapolating from
figures in Results from the
2008 National Survey on Drug Use and Health and US Census data for
Delaware in 2010 for persons aged 12 and over, roughly 43,000 whites used
illicit drugs in the past month, while a little over 16,000 blacks did. Put
another way, over two and a half times as many whites as blacks used illicit
drugs in any recent month. Yet, according to the report to the General Assembly cited above,
72.9 percent of adult males arrested for “drug dealing” were black.

By the way, those
National Surveys on Drug Use are based on confidential and anonymous interviews
and are well accepted for their reliability.

One can argue that we are
comparing apples to oranges, one year’s convictions for drug dealing to another
year’s use by persons over 12, or drug dealing to a host of drug offences that
may or not be statutorily violent, so we cannot draw any conclusions. Perhaps
that is the idea. None of the studies I have found focus acutely on the issue
of racial disparity between drug crime and drug arrest. Much less do they deal
with the complex networks of wink-and-a-nod racism.

What is to be done?

There are many good folks
trying out solutions to the wave of violence in the cities, the disappearance
of young black men into the criminal justice system, and drug abuse. Churches,
non profits, activists, and mental health providers offer alternatives and
advocate limited reforms. The News Journal has been promoting the Safe
Communities approach, that lets concerned citizens confront gang members and
offer alternatives to their ultimate incarceration. All of these are good, but almost
every criminal justice reform, civil rights, peace, and social justice
organization or non-profit intersects on some level with the state’s hierarchy
of bankers, politicians, and chateau-country elites, who might be offended if
we go off the plantation.

Nonetheless, all our
efforts will fail unless they are grounded in a common set of values that says
the War on Drugs must end and the prison system must be abolished.

Drugs are a social
problem, not a criminal problem. Crimes associated with drugs are virtually all
products of their prohibition and the lack of mental health services for those
addicted.

Many families know the
nightmare of addiction. They struggle against forces that tear them apart, and
they struggle together to get their loved ones treatment, before they end up
incarcerated, sick, homeless, or dead. Those with means go to Betty Ford’s.
Those without, go to jail, come out stigmatized and disenfranchised, and fall
into the quicksands of relapse, trafficking, and a violent struggle to survive.

The reduction in harms
with drug legalization is known. In the ten years since Portugal in effect
legalized all drugs, drug use has fallen across the board, HIV infections are
down 17 percent, and drug deaths have fallen one half. Drug trade violence is
forcing many countries to face the inevitable: The War on Drugs is a disaster.
In the United States, it has spawned the New Jim Crow.

Next door in New Jersey, Republican
Governor Chris Christie has declared, "The war on drugs, while well-intentioned,
has been a failure." He adds, "Every life is precious and every one
of God's creatures can be redeemed, but they won't if we ignore them."

Michele Alexander demands
that blacks who have won social mobility in the “Age of Colorblindness,” as
well as whites, give up the “racial bribe” that buys silence about what happens
to “the least among us,” white, black, or brown. She quotes Martin Luther King,
Jr. who told SCLC staff less than a year before his death, “it is necessary for
us to realize that we have moved from the era of civil rights to the era of
human rights. . . . We must see the great distinction between a reform movement
and a revolutionary movement. We are called up to raise certain basic questions
about the whole society.”

It is no coincidence that
accompanying the spread of this heartless mass incarceration since the 80s has
been the rise of a heartless economic policy called neoliberalism (neo:new;
liber: free). Free the class of plutocrats from any social contract, free the
rich from taxes, free the employer from paying a living wage, free the banks
and industries from regulation, cut loose the social safety net, and replace it
with jail. Liberals, meaning liberal Democrats, no longer act free to challenge
neoliberalism. While they have rightly challenged the Jim Crow aspects of new
voter ID laws, they are shy about taking on the prison-industrial complex,
looking weak on law and order, or taking on Jim Crow in the War on Drugs.

The economic collapse
brought on by neoliberalism has drained accumulated wealth among blacks more
than whites, who have also suffered mightily. Runaway industries offer few
opportunities for whites to maintain their lifestyles or for a new generation
of African Americans to rise to the middle class, in spite of affirmative
action. The young black male, disenfranchised by the New Jim Crow, faces
towering obstacles.

Movements like Occupy
Wall Street and Occupy Delaware have awakened the nation and the state to the
increasing imbalance in power and wealth between the richest one per cent and
the ninety-nine per cent that is the rest of us. They are exposing the central
contradiction of our time, something that is inspiring people across the globe to
rise up in revolt. What they and all of us need to do is to recognize who is
paying the greatest price for neoliberalism and put the overthrow of the New
Jim Crow front and center.

For all who would march
toward justice, read Michelle Alexander’s The
New Jim Crow and you’ll see farther down the road where our paths must meet.

Fantastic article Phillip. Excellent parallels and examples of Jim crow in action in Delaware. I'll be sure to read between the color lines here in Minneapolis too. Thanks for such great insight on an important but often ignored topic!

All Delaware Authors

Broken Turtle Booklist is a catalogue of Delaware regional authors, local publishers, and literary communities operating in Delaware. The Booklist includes audio and video recordings of Delaware authors, as well as their major works. It provides easy links to Amazon, Paypal, or publishers for folks who want to buy. Each month, we will feature a selected work by a Delaware author.

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To get your free copy of Steven Leech's The Wedgehorn Manifesto, write us at publisher@brokenturtlebooks.com. Also, Leech is now making a number of his other works in new editions available in PDF format.

What others have been saying about The Wedgehorn Manifesto:

Leech's writer's voice is from the heart, carrying lots of knowledge without pretension. He has a poets's feel for the way words work, and a jounalist's sense of the significant. Wedgehorn Manifesto marks, I hope, a turning point in the effort to preserve from destruciton the habitat in our collective memory of the many talented story tellers, poets, picture makers, and musicians who helped make life bearable for innumerable ordinary folk, and in fact made possible the fine cuture of the luckier few.

-Jonathan Bragdon, Wilmington born artist now living in Amsterdam, Netherlands

The Wedgehorn Manifesto is a call to action, a demand, an impassioned plea for the recognition, respect, and support of Delaware's artistic cultural past, present and future.

-Pat gibbs, columnist, The Wilmington SPECTATOR

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Dreamstreets showcased progressive artists, photographers, and writers of the Delaware Valley from 1977 to 2006. A beautiful record of the most vital—if often marginalized—cultural productions of an era. Features two centuries of Delaware's literary heritage. Now includes audio and video files.